


2018 Advent Ficlet Challenge

by westyellowgroom



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: 2018 advent ficlet challenge, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-08
Updated: 2018-12-25
Packaged: 2019-09-13 23:54:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 24
Words: 7,632
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16902129
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/westyellowgroom/pseuds/westyellowgroom
Summary: There are a couple themes running through these. First John and Sherlock are in a committed relationship and/or married. Second, I really like Dean Martin and love to listen to his music while baking, regardless of the time of year. There are a few exceptions. Third, I took the liberty to time travel about a bit.All chapters are stand alone and can be read in any order. I put the song I was listening to in brackets () after the title prompt.Don’t think I’ve ever written such short stories before.





	1. Holiday Décor (Deck The Halls)

Dean Martin was singing ‘Deck The Halls’ lowly through the speaker on a laptop sitting in an overstuffed red chair in front of the fireplace. There was a fire cheerily burning in the fireplace to chase away the chill from the room. Stockings were hung from the scarred mantle with care, a mantle also holding a skull wearing a red Santa hat. Next to the capped skull on the mantle a few holiday cards are displayed along with a few crackers awaiting Christmas Eve supper.

There is a real tree sitting in a place of honour on the desk between the front windows. The first unknotted strands of lights are twinkling on the small spruce topped with a glowing star. Silver foil garland was strung in a spiral neatly from top to bottom collecting and reflecting the firelight and the white blinking lights.

Several strands of twinkle lights were in an impressive knot on the coffee table awaiting further attention. On the sofa were several boxes filled with shining glass balls and additional garlands in silver, gold and green. 

Two men were slowly dancing in the middle of the room in their sock clad feet. There was very little space between them as they leisurely swayed along to the music playing in the background. The shorter of the two men, a blond, was wearing a hat similar to that on the skull. The taller man with the dark curly hair was sporting a headband festooned with felt antlers.

As the song ends, the taller man leans down and whispers in his partner’s ear, “I love you John Watson Homes.”

The shorter man tilts his head up with a large grin on his face, “And I love you too Sherlock Watson Holmes.”


	2. Star (O Christmas Tree)

“John!” The shout is coming up the stairs.

“What?”

“I need help getting this bloody thing up the stairs.”

“Sherlock is that a real tree?” Looking over the railing down to the entryway below.

“Of course it is. Now get down here and help me carry it up.”

“Alright, alright, keep your shirt on.” Mumbled.

“What was that? I didn’t quite catch it…”

“I said I was coming.” Halfway down the seventeen steps, “I thought we were going to be use the fake tree again this year.”

“Don’t be absurd, the thing is full of dust and the needles are falling off. Besides, you prefer smell and feel of a real tree anyways.”

“True on both fronts. Alright, I’m here. Which end do you want?”

“You take the top, I have the bottom already. On three?”

“Ready when you are.”

“Okay, let’s go, one, two, and three.”

Taking a quick brake on the landing before continuing into the flat, “Um, how tall is this tree? I’m not sure it will fit on the desk…”

“I was, um, thinking… behind my chair, in the window.”

“Alright, we might need to rearrange a few things… put one of the desk chairs on the landing maybe.”

“Rosie wanted a plush chair for her room, we can move the one by the sofa up and put the desk chair in its place.”

“Brilliant as always love.”

Blushing while trying not to smile at the compliment, “Thank you John.”

\---

Miss Rosamond Watson Holmes, age 7, is confused when she hops up the stairs later that afternoon. Usually the door into the lounge from the landing is open when her Uncle Mycroft’s driver drops her home from school. Leaving her book bag on the floor to deal with her homework later, she slowly opens the door and hears music, Dean Martin singing ‘O Christmas Tree’.

Her Daddy John and Papa Sherlock are putting up what looks like the twentieth strand of twinkle lights around the room and on a large tree!

“You got a Christmas Tree!” she happily exclaims clapping her hands a few times and jumping, very reminiscent of her Papa Sherlock.

“She’s much more observant than you are John.”

“Shut it you or I’ll make you wear Billy’s hat.” Tossing the red and white hat across the room for Sherlock to place on the skull sitting on the mantle.

The men giggle. “Rosie come here, you’re just in time to put the topper on the tree.” 

“Why do we still use this old thing Daddy?”

Sherlock answers, “Sentiment little Bee. You made this when you first started preschool.”

“Besides,” John adds, “we could never find anything better if we tried.” Beaming at his family.

Sherlock picks Rosie up, lifting her high enough to put the handmade foil and glitter covered cardboard star on top of the tree.


	3. You Better Watch Out (Santa Claus Is Coming To Town)

“Santa Claus is watching you...” John warns a 5 year old Rosie as her small hand reaches up to grab a gingerbread biscuit still warm from the oven off of the kitchen table. As a matter of fact, Dean Martin is singing in the background about the very being in question.

The small hand stills, “Daddy may I have a biscuit?” a slight hesitation, “Please?”

“Just the one, these are for your schools bake sale tomorrow.”

The small hand hovers before selecting what looks like the largest treat. “Ta Daddy. Can I take one to Papa?”

Smiling, “Of course, just make sure he’s the one who eats it.” 

“Okay!” Grabbing a random treat with her other hand before running into the lounge where Sherlock was laying prone on the sofa. “Papa, Papa I got you a biscuit!”


	4. Snowmen (Frosty The Snowman & Let It Go)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Isn’t satellite radio wonderful for its complex selection of music? I started having little Rosie say “Frwosty” but figured Sherlock would correct each and every mispronunciation she’d make…

“What are we doing Daddy?” The young blond girl bundled up against the cold weather asks.

“We’re building a snowman Bee.” Her Papa Sherlock answers patting handfuls of snow together into a large ball for the base of the body.

“A snowman! Like Frosty? Will it talk and dance?” Little Rosie excitedly exclaims.

“Not without a magic hat Pumpkin.” Daddy John tries to calm her down, patting snow into another smaller ball.

Patting her head with both hands, “I have a hat… do you think it has any magic?”

John and Sherlock quickly look at each other, “We can always give it a try when we’re done. Magic hats are very rare though baby, I’ve been looking for one all my life.” Her Daddy explains.

“Really Daddy?”

“Really. I never have found a magic hat.” John grins over her head at his husband.

“Did you ever find any magic?” A look of wonder on her face.

“A little bit when I found your Papa.” Sherlock has the base of the snowman ready when John lifts the middle on top it.

Rosie had stopped shaping snow into a ball for the head while she was talking. “Papa has magic?”

Sherlock pats her on the head before starting to help her and John collect snow for the head. “Your Daddy seems to think I do. I believe it is he who holds all the magic though.”

“Daddy has magic? Do I have magic too? Do I Papa?” Hopping up and down with excitement.

“I believe that you do little Bee…” Sherlock starts.

“The magic of love.” John finishes the sentence and the head for their snowman. “You ready to help put his head on?”

“Can we put my hat on to see if it’s magic?” Rosie eagerly asks looking at both her Daddy and Papa.

“Of course Bee.”

“As soon as we finish.” John adds while casually pulling a carrot out of a pocket in Sherlock’s Belstaff.

Sherlock smiles at John and adds in a loud confidential whisper to Rosie, “See, your Daddy is magical. That carrot wasn’t in my pocket before.”

Grinning John pulls a small box out of the same pocket as the carrot and hands it to Rosie. “Sorry, we don’t have a corncob pipe. I did however find two matching pieces of coal from the fireplace to use for eyes and a few buttons we can use for a mouth. Thought we could try the carrot for a nose just like Olaf.”

“Olaf? Will Sven try to eat his nose?”

“No baby, Sven is far away with Kristoff and Anna.”

Sherlock whispers in John’s ear low enough so Rosie can’t hear, “John if you start her singing ‘Let It Go’ again I shan’t be responsible for my actions.” Sherlock raises an eyebrow at his husband for emphasis.

Grinning, John turns to Rosie, “What say we put a face on our snowman while Papa looks for suitable arms?”

Lifting her arms up, “Okay Daddy. Hurry Papa, I want to see if my hat is magic!”

Sherlock strides away to the nearest tree in search of sticks for arms as John lifts Rosie up to place the coal, buttons. Sherlock is on his way back when John helps Rosie with the carrot nose.

“Can we put my hat on yet Daddy?”

“Help me with his arms first Bee.” Sherlock hands Rosie the sticks and retrieves her from Johns’ arms.

When Sherlock puts Rosie down, John takes her hand so they can look at their creation together. They had created a three-tiered snowman approximately four-feet tall. Two bits of coal from their fireplace used for eyes, a carrot nose and five buttons used for a smiling mouth. Sherlock found two similar branches with a crook for an elbow and three fingers for each hand. 

Sherlock tilts his head from side to side with a slight frown, “He’s missing something.” Steps back, “Ah, I have it!” and pulls the old blue scarf from around his neck to loop on the snowman.

“That’s better” John agrees. 

“Still something missing…” Sherlock states again.

Rosie starts to jump up and down in excitement between her fathers. “My hat, he needs a hat!” Lifting said fluffy pink item off of her head.

“All right, calm down.” John kneels down to her level as Sherlock squats down next to him. “I don’t want you to be disappointed if our snowman doesn’t come to life.” Daddy John calmly starts.

“Your Daddy has been looking all his life for a magic hat without success after all.” Sherlock adds, just as calmly.

Rosie puts a hand on each of her father’s cheeks, “I know. But the snowman does need a hat.”

Both men nod in unison, rising to their feet. “Okay” John starts, “Let’s get this thing done.” Sherlock lifts Rosie who gently places her hat on top of the snowman.

After a minute of watching nothing happen, “Daddy, can we go home and have some hot cocoa?”

“With some of the mini marshmallow’s you picked up yesterday.”

“As you wish.”


	5. Believe (Here Comes Santa Claus)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> If you are young enough that you believe Santa Clause breaks into your home to leave presents once a year, kindly skip this chapter...

Six year old Rosie comes up the stairs with tears in her eyes followed by a flustered Mrs. Hudson. Rosie doesn’t stop at the lounge to greet her Papa as she usually does, she just runs on by up the next set of stairs and into her room. 

“Why is Rosie crying?” Sherlock wonders looking up the stairs, John is working a short shift at the clinic but is expected home at any moment.

Sighing, Mrs. Hudson sadly replies, “Her friend Janice told her there is no such thing as Santa Claus.” They hear the door downstairs open, close and John’s familiar tread start up the steps.

Frowning, “I, I don’t understand… Rosie’s friend was right. Why is she so upset?” 

Patting Sherlock’s arm, “Why don’t I let John explain it to you dear.”

“Explain what?” the man in question replies while taking off his coat and hanging it up.

“I’ll leave Sherlock to explain, I’ll pop back up in a bit with tea and biscuits.” Mrs. Hudson leaves.

John raises an eyebrow at Sherlock clearly asking ‘what’s up?’

“Janice told Rosie that Santa does not exist.” Sherlock blurts out then looks confused while adding, “I don’t understand why she’s so upset, Janice is correct.”

“Technically yes, but no…” walking over to his frowning, confused husband. John places the palm of his hand over Sherlock’s heart. “When Harry and I were old enough to know the truth Mum told us that as long as we believed in here,” lightly pressing harder against Sherlock’s chest, “Santa and Christmas would always live on in our hearts.” John steps back placing his hand on his own chest over his heart. “I know Santa does not really exist, but I carry his spirit in my heart. So, in truth I am Santa, you could be too. Can you understand that?”

Sherlock blinks several times processing what John said. “I. I think so. So I am in fact…” he stalls.

“Santa Claus.” John finishes with a nod.

“Santa Claus.” Slight deer in the headlights look.

“Yes. You’ve done perfectly fine the Christmases we’ve spent together. I know you put a few things in my and Rosie’s stockings on Christmas Eve.”

“Hudders too.”

Smiling, “How can I forget?” Giving Sherlock a hug and a quick kiss on the lips. “What say we go and tell our daughter that she has two Santa Claus’ in the house?”

Giving his husband another kiss Sherlock adds, “Mrs. Hudson sneaks a few things in too, does that mean she’s Santa as well?”

“You are brilliant!” Taking Sherlock’s hand to lead him up the stairs. “Let’s go cheer up our girl then!”


	6. Fireplace (The Christmas Song)

John sings along to the tune playing in the background while adding a log to the fire, “Chestnuts roasting on an open fire. Jack Frost nipping at your nose. Yuletide carols being sung by a fire and folks dressed up like eskimos…”

“John who is this Jack Frost and why is he trying to bite your nose?”

“Have you deleted Christmas carols again Sherlock?”

“Um… maybe? I do like roasted chestnuts though.”

“Good thing I picked some up at the shops on my way home from the clinic then.”


	7. Memories (Joy To The World)

The wind was coming from off of the English Channel, bringing a briny, ‘seaweedy’ scent along with the occasional snowflake. Through the window they can just make out the beehives along the stone wall of the inner garden in the moonlight dancing through the scattered clouds. In that self-same window was the reflection of a Christmas tree, complete with lights, ornaments and an old foil and glitter star adorning its top. The tree and the fire were the only sources of light in the cosy room.

Sherlock handed his husband John a glass of merlot as he stood up from tending the fire. From down the hall, they can hear a clock chime midnight. “Happy Christmas John.” Clinking the glasses together.  
“Happy Christmas Sherlock.” Both men take a small sip.

“What time will Rosie arrive tomorrow?” Sherlock picks up a plate of gingerbread biscuits off the coffee table, offering the treats to John before replacing the plate from whence it came from.

“Thanks love. Rosie is coming down with Greg, Molly and the twins; they should be here by noon. Forgot to tell you she texted earlier and can stay with us until classes start up again mid-January.” Patting the seat cushion next to him on the sofa while happily biting off the head of his gingerbread man.

Smiling fondly at his husband, Sherlock sits, touching shoulder and thigh with his husband while taking a bite of his own biscuit. “I still can’t believe our Rosie is a teacher.”

“Yeah, Doctor Rosamond Watson-Holmes, professor of forensic pathology at St. Bart’s. Who would have guessed she would follow in both our footsteps?” 

“Hmm.” Taking another sip from his glass, “I’m just glad she’s not out there chasing after criminals like we did though. Exciting as it was, we took too many chances. I almost lost you a few times.”

“I thought I lost you a few times too, I don’t want to have to go through that again anytime soon either. When Carruthers stabbed you… it was all I could do not to break his neck. I never want to spend another winter solstice in hospital again.”

“You and me both John.” Snuggling closer, “We did have a nice quiet Christmas that year though… Just the three of us, you me and little Rosie. Mrs. Hudson was at her sisters, Mycroft was stuck going to my parents, Greg and Molly went to her mothers.”

“Yeah, it was nice considering the circumstances. Angelo sent over a lovely supper when he found out you were hurt. We spent most of the day watching a Dr. Who marathon if I’m not mistaken.”

“I remember, I liked the one with the bowtie... Though you are still my favourite Doctor.”

“Thank you love.” Giving Sherlock a quick kiss on the lips. Sherlock tasted sweet and tart from the mixture of wine and gingerbread.

Sherlock clinked his glass against his husbands once more, “To the good old days.”

Smiling John repeats the gesture, “To the good old days, may we have many more.”

“I’ll drink to that.”


	8. Music (Here We Come A Carolling)

“You’re buying Rosie a violin for Christmas? She’s only five Sherlock, isn’t she too young?” John wonders as they enter the music store.

“She insisted that I help her write a letter to Santa yesterday. The only things she asked for were a nice locked room murder for us and a violin of her own. I can give her lessons, it’ll be fine. You know she’s been having fun squeaking notes out of your old clarinet since her birthday.”

“Yeah, I can’t believe Harry kept that thing all these years. She always complained whenever I practiced.”

“Harriet did say it was payback for all the hell you put her through when she dropped it off with Rosie’s present.” Sherlock smirks.

“Ta very much.”

“Hey! I enjoyed your version of ‘twinkle, twinkle little star’. That was what you played wasn’t it?”

“It’s a good thing I love you Sherlock.”

“I love you too John.”


	9. Gift (Home For The Holidays)

“What’s this? Christmas isn’t for a couple of days yet.” John asks his husband who just handed him a package wrapped in plain brown paper.

“Just a little something I found today. I thought of you when I saw it. Open it up.” 

“This is a lovely jumper Sherlock, thank you!”

“I thought it would bring out the color of your eyes. You should wear it when we visit my parents for Christmas dinner.”

“Thank you love. Y’know what, stay right here. I have something for you as well.” Pulls a bag from behind the couch and hands it to Sherlock.

“What’s this?” Opening the bag, “Oh John…”

“You sacrificed your old scarf to Rosie’s snowman last week. I didn’t want your lovely neck to get chilled.”

“This is soft, softer than my old one. Warm too. Thank you.”

“Cashmere, nothing but the best for you.”

“And you as well love.”


	10. Do You See What I See (Do You Hear What I Hear)

One would think that criminals would take time off over the Holidays to spend time with their families. Most year’s it’s a quiet time of reflection and an extremely bored Consulting Detective. This year however there seems to be a string of poisonings of a calibre reminiscent of one Jeff Hope.

Three poisonings at three different homes scattered across greater London had the officers of NSY pulling out their hair as the press had a field day extolling their failure to catch the culprit responsible. Of course the constables had to call in Sherlock and John to see if they could catch the perpetrator.

NSY left the previous crime scenes blocked, so no one was allowed in to clean up anything after photos and samples were taken. After investigating the third crime scene Sherlock insisted he and John be allowed to go to the previous locations.

They worked the scenes backwards, by the time they entered the home of the first suspect both men had grins on their faces. 

“Dimmok, you see but you don’t observe!” Sherlock exclaims, twirling while waving his hands around the room. “Even John spotted what you lot have missed.”

“Hey, be nice Sherlock. I’ve had years of practice following you around. Besides, it’s almost Christmas.” John tries to calm his husband.

“Fine Mr. Holmes. What did ‘our lot’ miss this time?” DI Dimmok demands, irritated.

Sherlock stops and frowns at the DI while grabbing and raising John’s left hand, “Well for starters our matching rings. I am Mr. Watson-Holmes now.” The married men walk hand in hand to the mantle where John picks up a photograph with his right hand and passes it over to the DI while Sherlock continues to talk. “The man in the middle of this picture is also in photos at the other crime scenes. Find him, you find your poisoner.” 

Squeezing John’s hand still in his, “Come along John. We have some mistletoe at home that needs to be tested.”


	11. Comfort And Joy (God Rest Ye Merry Gentlemen)

“John? I thought you wouldn’t be home for another three days.”

“Yeah, well the speakers I wanted to listen to at the conference cancelled. Besides I missed being with you and Rosie too much.”

“We missed you too. She wouldn’t eat the first day, refused everything, even biscuits until you skyped.”

“Yeah, I’m sorry about how much trouble she was. It was a comfort knowing she was in good hands while I was away though.”

“I even texted Lestrade that I couldn’t take on any cases until after you returned.”

“I bet he wasn’t too overjoyed to hear that.”

“He, um, he, he started to text me videos of cats falling off of shelves for some reason.” Pulling out his phone and playing the latest video.

John bursts out laughing, soon followed by Sherlock.


	12. Gingerbread (Let It Snow!)

“So, what are you up to? Experiment? Whatever it is it smells good.” Sniffing the air with a smile on his face.

“Rosie and I watched a show about a gingerbread house competition and she wanted to give it a go.”

John looks around, “So where is our budding architect then?”

“She went shopping with Mrs. Hudson for decorating supplies. I gave her my card.”

“You think that wise? She’s only nine…”

“Mrs. Hudson will keep her in check. Besides we made a list of everything we might need. Surprisingly we had the ingredients the recipe the internet recommended for gingerbread construction.”

“Lucky us. Is it good enough to eat?”

“You tell me.” Handing over a cooked scrap.

“Hmmm. Good crunch, lovely gingery flavour. I approve. Did you two pick a house style yet?” looking at the cut pieces laying on the kitchen table, trying to figure it out.

Sherlock picks up a picture from the counter behind him, “We settled on my parents’ home. From the front elevation it looks like a single story house. Originally we were going to recreate 221 but there are too many levels and windows. That and we didn’t know what to use for the awning over Speedy’s Café.”

“Lovely, I look forward to helping eat the leftovers.” John fondly kisses his husband.


	13. Frost (White Christmas)

Snow was falling outside, from the vantage point of the window next to their Christmas tree, Sherlock estimated the depth to be at least six inches already. The forecast called for more snow through the night. No people or cars were moving out on the streets that he could see. He and John could be the last two people on earth for all he could tell.

John was in his old red chair in front of the burning fire, slowly sipping from a cup of tea in his left hand. Re-reading an old dog eared Ian Fleming book in his right, ‘From Russia With Love’ can be seen from the crinkled binding on the small, soft sided tome. He was dressed warmly in a blue checked button down shirt and his favourite Christmas jumper, a red plaid wool blanket draped across his denim clad lap.

They’d had a case through NSY that had kept them busy all week, so busy that Sherlock’s parents came and picked Rosie up to take back to Holmes Manor a few days prior as Mrs. Hudson was out of town and Molly had to go to work herself. Well, one of Mycroft’s people drove Sherlock’s parents up and back home along with the presents from under the tree at 221B. Violet and Siger were overjoyed and taking their role as Rosie’s grandparents very seriously. They had mentioned baking Christmas cookies with the seven year old girl before they were driven away.

The power had been out all day in their section of the city. It had gone off during the night if the chill in the flat when they awoke late that morning was any indication. The only heat had been that given by the fire John started, now burning merrily in grate. The good doctor also had the foresight to close the doors into the kitchen and landing to keep what heat the fire did generate to stay within the lounge. 

John had spent most of the day quietly reading while occasionally stealing glances at his brooding husband. Sherlock, spent the majority of the day leaning against the wall next to the window He was outfitted in a tan dressing gown over John’s oatmeal jumper while quietly watching the falling snow outside. The snow building up on the outside of the window panes was climbing higher as the day wore on, the forming ice crystals reflecting the firelight within.

When the flat lost what little light the cloud covered sunlight brought, John puts his book down and lights a few candles on the mantle. He then wraps his arms around Sherlock, stepping close behind him to gently share warmth. Sherlock brings his hands up to cover Johns on his stomach, leaning back into the embrace.

“Oh Sherlock, your hands are ice cold.”

“Hmmm. You are nice and warm.”

“I miss her too y’know, we’ll see her again in a few days in time for Christmas.”

Turning in John’s arms, wrapping his arms around his husband. “I know… I never believed I would have a family, let alone be the family type, and now look at me.” Nuzzling his cold nose in John’s warm neck.

“I love you too Sherlock.”


	14. A Beautiful Sight (Rudolf The Red Nosed Reindeer)

“Rudolf The Red Nosed Reindeer‘’ by Dean Martin is playing in the background. Most of the tune is being drowned out by the babbling voices from the long line of parents and their impatient children waiting to visit with Santa just outside their door.

“Tell me again why we’re here and dressed like this?” John asks, holding his arms out.

“It’s for a case.” Sherlock huffs the reply.

“What? Somebody is stealing candy canes, making off with Rudolf? I’m dressed like a bloody elf Sherlock!” 

“I don’t know what you’re complaining about John, they didn’t exactly have an elf costume in my size!”

“Yeah, those tights aren’t hiding a thing are they?” John licks his lips checking Sherlock’s arse out. The green tights his husband is wearing show off his backside beautifully, course they didn’t hide much in the front either. John is very happy his top covers him to mid-thigh with Sherlock in that outfit.

“They’re the only thing that does fit! How come your top covers your arse? Mine barely makes it past my navel…”

“Never thought I’d be so glad to be short.” Is the giggly retort.

A female voice yells from outside while banging upon their door, “Santa’s elves need to make an appearance pronto! Get a move on in there Jingle and Jangle.”

“We’re coming, give us a minute.” John yells back. Then asks his husband, “Okay, what are we looking for anyway?”

Tugging down his top trying to stretch it lower, “This set up is giving all proceeds to charity and someone is taking a bit off the top. Quite a bit as a matter of fact.”

“Alright, so keep an eye on the till then.” John concludes while picking up his hat with a jingle bell sewn on the tip then opening the door to follow his scantily clad husband out to Santa’s Winter Wonderland.


	15. Toy Soldier (The Little Drummer Boy)

“John, is that a nutcracker?”

“Yeah Sherlock, it was a gift. We’re having a secret Santa exchange at the clinic. This was left on my desk this morning.”

“It’s nice... Is it wearing army fatigues?”

“Yes,” with a fond smile, “it is. Desert gear as a matter of fact, similar to what I wore in Afghanistan.”

Two days later.

“Is that another nutcracker?”

“Yes, it’s made up like a doctor. He has a little stethoscope in the medical bag and everything, it was on my desk when I arrived at work today. Didn’t expect a second one, there is supposed to be a £20 limit.”

Two more days go by.

“Another nutcracker?”

“Yeah. In a full dress uniform, complete with ceremonial sword. It must have cost a small fortune, I think it has real gold for buttons…” Looking at his husband, “Can you come to the clinic with me tomorrow to sort out who’s doing this?”

“Oh John. I don’t need to do that, I already know who’s leaving them for you.”

“You do? Is it Sarah? I thought she understood I was happily married to you…”

Sherlock gathers John in his arms and kisses him tenderly on the forehead. “No you idiot, it’s me. I’ve been leaving them for you.”

“You?!?”

“Soldiers for my favourite soldier.”

“I love you too Sherlock.”


	16. Season’s Greetings (Jingle Bells)

“Must we do this John?” Sherlock moans.

Adjusting his tie in the mirror over the burning fireplace, “Yes” John answers firmly. 

John’s tone brooks no argument, yet Sherlock ignores it while continuing to pout. “You really don’t expect me to participate in this atrocity do you?”

Pinching the bridge of his nose while taking a calming breath. “Five minutes, it will take all of five minutes then you can do whatever the bloody hell you want!” John growls.

“John! No swearing in front of the b-a-b-y.” Waving an arm in Rosie’s general direction.

“I’ll start a bloody swear jar then!” Pointing at the leather chair next to the cleaned and decorated mantle over the burning fire. “Sit.”

“Do I really have to John?” Sherlock whines.

Captain Watson comes to attention and orders, “Sit.” Pointing at the chair again.

Sherlock quickly sits, crossing his legs, bouncing the top one in agitation.

John turns, taking a happy Rosie, wearing a fancy red velvet and lace dress, from a flustered man with a camera bag on the floor at his feet. 

“This is our first holiday as a married couple and I want to have a family portrait taken. You agreed to it last week. We’re going to send this picture out as our Christmas card and have a print made up special for your parents and Mrs. Hudson as gifts.” Staring down at his husband, “Now uncross your legs so you can hold our daughter.” The last sentence a command.

Looking up at his husband in awe, “Yes sir.” Uncrossing his legs and reaching up for Rosie.

John gives a curt nod. “Excellent,” before sitting on the arm of chair then adjusting a curl on Sherlock’s forehead. 

The man with the bag had pulled out his camera. When John settles, he cheerfully calls out, “All right everyone, say ‘Seasons Greetings’.


	17. Warm And Cosy (I’ve Got My Love To Keep Me Warm)

‘I’ve Got My Love To Keep Me Warm’ by Dean Martin was coming through the speakers on the stereo. Outside, snowflakes were gently drifting down the windows, framing the sparkling tree between them. The pile of presents below the decorated tree were reflecting the multi-coloured twinkling lights.

Four over brimming stockings were hung by the fire with care bearing the names of John, Sherlock, Rosie and Martha. Mrs. Hudson chose to stay at 221 for Christmas this year instead of traveling off to join her sister. She wanted a quiet Christmas, course with a four year old girl running around, how quiet could it be?

It took a while for Rosie to calm down enough to go to sleep this Christmas Eve. In the end they all had to convince her that Santa Claus would not come while she was still awake. She tried to persuade her Fathers and Nana Hudson to let her stay up and catch Santa in the act of breaking and entering into their home.

In the end, Papa Sherlock had to assure Rosie that he would interrogate the man when he showed up. If needs be, her Daddy John could rugby tackle Santa and hold him until they got the information needed. Granted, these deeds would most assuredly land them on the naughty list for a good number of years to come. Both men assured their daughter that it would be well worth the risk.

At the moment she was tucked snuggly in her bed, having succumbed to sleep while her Papa Sherlock read her ‘The Night Before Christmas’ for the fifth time this week alone. Mrs. Hudson departed when her Daddy John carried Rosie upstairs to get her ready for her long winters nap.

Between Martha Hudson and young Rosie the thermostat was set at, to Sherlock, a balmy 75. John was happy with the added warmth in the building as his damaged shoulder didn’t ache quite as much. That and the new windows and insulation installed after what they now referred to as the ‘Euros incident helped to keep the usual drafts at bay in the old building.

At the moment, Sherlock and John were snuggled closely together on the couch watching the burning fire. The only lights on in the flat came from the twinkle lights on the tree and those draped around the room.


	18. Celebration (Holly Jolly Christmas)

“Keep pouting and I’ll make you wear the antlers!” John threatens.

“I’d like to see you try.” Sherlock growls back.

“We are having people over and you are going to enjoy it.”

“But Jooooohhhhnnnn, I don’t want to have party! You, Rosie and Mrs. Hudson are more than enough…”

“It’s only Harry, Molly, Greg and maybe Mycroft and your parents if they’re in town.”

Sputtering, “Only!” Sherlock starts to pace.

“I want Rosie to have good memories of Christmas. She’s old enough this year to remember. Please, for her if not for me.”

Stopping in front of John, “You play dirty John Watson-Holmes.”

Stepping closer so he can rub a hand down Sherlock’s arm, “I’ve learned from the best Sherlock Watson-Holmes. Besides, I can make it worth your while…” dancing an eyebrow.

“Fine. But no antlers!”

“Fine.”

“John?”

“Yes Sherlock?”

“I love you.”

“I know, I love you too.”


	19. Silent Night (Silent Night)

This was the first night of their retirement at the home in Sussex having finished their last case for Scotland Yard just the day before. Through the large picture window along the back wall, snowflakes could be seen gently falling, there was not a swirl or breath of a breeze to disturb their leisurely descent. The garden wall, outlined in twinkle lights, was slowing being buried in the gently falling snow. The outline of bee hives could just be made out in the dimming lights.

Outside the only noises heard were the gentle breaking of waves echoing up the chalky white cliff face from the beach far below. Inside one could hear the crackling of the fire burning in the woodstove. The mantle above adorned with a skull wearing an old Santa hat overseeing three hanging stockings and a small assortment of Holiday cards. A mirror above reflecting the cosy room and the twinkle lights draped around its frame.

In the corner, a pine tree topped with an old foil and glitter star was adorned with red and silver glass balls was shining merrily. Packages, wrapped in colourful paper and bows were placed neatly underneath awaiting the following morning.

One of the occupants of the house is upstairs in her room fast asleep, possibly with visions of the sugarplums she brought home with her in her head. Miss Rosamond Mary Watson-Holmes just finished her first semester of Medical School and went to bed early, exhausted from being up most the prior week studying for final exams.

Another dweller in the household was stretched out on a rug in front of the fire soaking up as much of the warmth his little body would allow. The puppy, an Irish Setter wearing a red bow as a collar, was literally dog-tired from a long day of playing around in the snow with two men with silver in their hair. 

At the moment, those two men were lying, cuddled together, on a well-worn leather couch they brought with them from their old flat in London. The taller of the two, who had dark curly hair with flecks of silver, was spooning the shorter. The shorter, hair almost a pure silver with a few flecks of gold, had a contented smile on his face. 

Down the hall, a clock could be heard chiming the midnight hour.

“Happy Christmas John.”

“Happy Christmas Sherlock.”


	20. Home (I’ll Be Home For Christmas)

“I'm dreaming tonight of a place I love even more than I usually do. And although I know it's a long road back, I promise you. I’ll be home for Christmas, you can count on me. Please have snow and mistletoe, and presents on the tree…”

“What are you singing John?”

“Oh, nothing... just, a, ah Christmas carol… mum always had Dean Martin playing when Harry and I were little.”

Frowning, “You sure?” sensing his husband is holding something back, “I should be able to solve this case by tomorrow at the latest.”

“It’s not that… I just, um, I miss Rosie. This is the first time we have had to leave her behind for a case out of town…”

Gathering John in his arms for a hug, “I miss her too.” Sherlock adds sincerely. “We’ll be home by tomorrow night at the latest, I promise.” They stand hugging one another for a few minutes until Sherlock tenses and exclaims, clapping his hands together, “Oh! Oh John!” Giving his husband a passionate kiss, “I’ve solved it! Cliché as it is, the butler did it! There’s a train leaving in an hour, we can be back home to Rosie before midnight!”

Sherlock turns, pulling out his phone to text the local police the solution. 

Behind him he hears a breathless, “Brilliant!” from John.


	21. Hopes and Fears (Blue Christmas)

A rendition of Blue Christmas sung by Elvis Presley was coming through the ceiling speakers in the waiting room. John was pacing, not really paying attention other than thinking what an awful choice of music to be playing in the St. Bartholomew’s Hospital A & E. Sherlock has been in surgery for almost an hour. For the last hour and a half John has been a wreck, not knowing if his husband would recover from the encounter with the knife wielding murderer or not.

Greg followed the ambulance to the hospital but had to get back to the Carruthers home, aka crime scene, to supervise his staff, mumbling about them all being complete imbeciles on his way out. Greg had also assured John he would notify Mycroft and Mrs. Hudson. Before making his leave, Greg made John promise to keep him posted on Sherlock’s progress.

Alone with nothing to distract him from his worst fears, John goes over the day in his head…

Sherlock was extra snuggly this morning, wanting to have a bit of a lie in. John had retrieved baby Rosie from her room and after changing her, bringing her back down to their bed to join his husband. Most of the day was spent in gentle caresses and kisses that promised of more to come. 

They had even discussed when and where they wanted to retire. Tending bees on a farm in Sussex near the ocean is sounding better and better every passing minute to John as he wears a path in the linoleum in the too bright waiting room.

Greg had texted shortly after they put Rosie down for her afternoon nap around three. There was what looked like a locked room murder-suicide that appeared suspicious even to Anderson. Sherlock was in such a good mood he had even praised the mostly incompetent tech on the improvement of his observational skills much to the surprise of everyone within hearing distance, John included.

Sherlock and he also spotted the obvious inaccuracies in the crime scene. While investigating, John’s brilliant husband determined the two bodies in the room were lovers and that the resentful spouse of one of the victims was in fact the killer who had also staged the scene.

Sherlock freely shared his observations and all parties involved followed the clues to the home of one of the victims to find the perpetrator. John recalls the officers of New Scotland Yard entered the home first to find the large old house unoccupied. He and Sherlock only entered the old Victorian era house after it was cleared by the police. 

While they were looking around in the kitchen, an angry man brandishing a knife came barrelling out of the pantry behind Sherlock. The man was able to stab Sherlock in his lower back before John was able to disarm and subdue him. At this moment John wishes he hadn’t held back and only broke the suspects’ nose and right arm.

The amount of blood Sherlock lost in the short time it took to restrain the attacker alarmed the Doctor in John. Greg quickly called an ambulance while berating his men as John fought to stem the flow of blood coming from his husbands wound. 

“Mr Holmes?” A tired looking surgeon comes into the sparse room pulling John from his darkening thoughts.

“Yes, I’m John Watson-Holmes. How’s my husband? How is Sherlock?”

“The weapon used just missed his left kidney, he was a very lucky man. We were able to stop the bleeding, he should make a full recovery. He’s just coming out of anaesthesia now then we’ll move him up to a room for a day or two of observation before he can be released to go home.”

John’s emotions get the better of him as he shakes the Doctors hand. “Can I see him now? I’m a Doctor…”

“Of course, just follow me. I’ll take you to him, he’s still a bit groggy.” 

A slurred baritone call of “Jawwwwn! Jawn where are you?” can be heard in the hallway outside the recovery room. Sherlock’s surgeon pats John good naturedly on the back before leaving with a, “Happy Christmas Mr. Holmes.”

John smiles and waves, “Happy Christmas Doctor and thank you!” Before entering to find Sherlock.

“Jawwwn… Jawwwn!” 

“I’m here Sherlock, I’m here.” John interlocks his fingers with Sherlock’s when he reaches the bed.

“Oh… Jawn, I wanna to tell you somefing.” 

“I’m here, what did you want to say?”

“Jawn, I wuv you Jawn.”

“I love you too Sherlock.”


	22. Feast (Marshmallow World)

Dean Martin was singing ‘Marshmallow World’ low in the background. 

“I can’t believe you’ve never had a s’more before Sherlock! We used to have them whenever we went camping in the summer.”

“You know very well that I never went camping. I was lucky I was allowed outdoors what with violin and language lessons.” The pouting, “I had to sneak out to have any fun.”

“Fine, in that case grab the graham crackers and the marshmallows. I’ll rustle us up a couple chocolate bars. 

With a laugh, “Rustle?”

“Oh, yeah sorry. There’s a new Doctor at the clinic who’s from America, I must be picking up some of his phrases.”

“Is he good looking, this new Doctor?”

“Why, you going to trade me in for a newer model?” Glancing at his husband and noticing the taught lines. “Or are you jealous? You know I only have eyes for you.”


	23. Nightmare Before Christmas (The 12 Days Of Christmas)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My least favourite song this time of year is the 12 Days of Christmas. I had to sing it in choir for a number of years. Add to that shrill, out of key voices and it is my hell on earth (shudder). 
> 
> Also, all my ‘children’ have four legs and fur for a very good reason.
> 
> This one has some mature content as well.

Rosie’s entire preschool class was near the end of singing ‘The 12 Days of Christmas’. 

John was having a tough enough time trying not to cringe at every wrong note or incorrect line sung by a stage frightened five year old. He’s extremely pleased that Sherlock is supporting his adopted daughter but John is worried, however, the further up toward his ears his husbands’ shoulders keep getting. Heaven knows Sherlock is a bit of a contortionist, but even John is not willing to bet the man can block his hearing by just shrugging his shoulders.

When the song is blessedly over Sherlock whispers in John’s ear while clapping politely with the other parents and guests. “The person who chose that song is a masochist!”

Whispering back just as low, “Just wait for the next song.”

No sooner than he stated that when the children started to loudly sing out ‘Good King Wenceslas’ off key.

“How long is this blasted event John?” 

Giving his husband a quick kiss on the cheek, “Two songs per age class. This is the last for Rosie’s year, only five more age groups to go.” Sherlock’s eyes go wide in horror as John explains further, “The performances should improve as the children get older though.”

“Can’t we just leave when Rosie is finished?” Sherlock demands low.

“Nope, the entire school gets together for a final song. Rosie needs to stay for that.” John murmurs in his husbands’ ear. “If you behave, I’ll fellate you every night until Christmas. Deal?”

Sherlock thinks on it a moment, “Mornings too?” 

“Git. It’s a good thing I love you.” John pulls Sherlock’s head down to rest on his left shoulder, blocking the one ear. To the rest of the room it looks like a cuddle, to Sherlock it is almost heaven.

“I love you too John.”


	24. Peace (Do You Hear What I Hear)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this one is late, my family celebrates on both Christmas Eve and Day.

“Do you hear what I hear John?”

“I don’t hear anything Sherlock.”

“Precisely. The flat is ours again.” Sighing contentedly.

Looking around, John observes the evidence of a gathering of their friends strewn around the room, cup here, half-empty glass there and a collection of beer bottles on the desk. A smile crosses his face when he spies their daughter Rosie asleep, curled up hugging an old plush bee, at one end of their couch. It looks as though someone had covered her with a blanket at one time.

Sherlock follows John’s gaze, “Ah, I think the first order of business would be putting her in a proper bed.” 

Kissing Sherlock on the cheek, “Good idea love.”


End file.
